


Of The Misuse of Back Alleys

by Mishaa



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishaa/pseuds/Mishaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alley sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of The Misuse of Back Alleys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magic/gifts).



> Written for a prompt on projectkkink on livejournal with Claudia in mind.

 

Yata doesn’t quite know what happened exactly. Fushimi’s mouth is sealed on his, and the overwhelming sweet tang of mint that he’s always known him to have doesn’t help him reboot his brain either.  

 

He feels the cold cement of an old storage building on his back, a remnant from the old decade, abandoned by the upperground society and damp from the rain water the rusty pipes that connect to the neighboring building collected and leaked onto the ground below.

Resistance is futile, he learned that a long time ago, long before Fushimi upped his libido and decided to spontaneously take Yata whenever and wherever he could.

Their kiss is rushed and sloppy, as it is every time Fushimi sneakily pulls him away from his group and into any random secluded place. He wants to tell him it doesn’t matter; that his team’s become so used his sudden disappearances that they don’t bother looking anymore and the only thing they’d get from being sneaky are aching backs from uncomfortable positions.

Fushimi snakes his hand up Yata’s shirt, but it’s not quite until his nimble fingers begin to play with an already perk nipple and not until his ravenous tongue start to trail wet kisses up to the hollow by his ear and then down the length of his neck that Yata’s brain really shuts down.

“Just stop thinking already,” Fushimi murmurs in between nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh on the  juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Yata growls, “S-Stop it! That’s going to leave a mark you idi— _AH_!” The rest of his retort is drowned by a rather loud moan he didn’t think he was capable of producing as Fushimi palms his erection through his pants. Yata ruts into his hand, whatever complaint he might have had vanishing because shit, that hand feels so good pressing up against him, relieving him with the pressure he needed.

“That’s kind of the point.” _You’re mine,_ was the underlying message. Fushimi drowns in all the sounds Yata makes – sounds that only he has heard. Mikoto might have Yata’s loyalty and even a bit of his heart, but he’ll never see Yata like this – squirming beneath him, teary eyed and red all over, his misty eyes begging for more.

“B-Bas— _ahh-ha!_ —tard,” Yata manages to hiss. In response, Fushimi lets his  skillfull tongue greet Yata’s adam’s apple as it bobs up and down, playing with it. Yata grinds harder into his hand, Fushimi’s actions driving him over the edge.

Fushimi snickers as he does a little squeeze on his cock and Yata stiffens from the added pressure, tightening his grip on Fushimi’s shoulders and suddenly resenting the blazer Fushimi had on that kept him from drawing blood. “Ngh!” he barely suppresses.

“Shh, love. You don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?” Fushimi croons, leaving Yata’s neck cold and wet with saliva to nibble on Yata’s ear. “We might not be able to finish this... little misadventure, if someone were to interrupt,” he whispers huskily.

Fushimi retracts his hand and Yata instinctively leans into it, pulling himself closer to the other boy. “So greedy, aren’t you, Mi-sa-ki?” Fushimi practically sing-songs. Yata growls and is thankful when Fushimi’s hand slips in his pants and frees his cock from his boxers. Fushimi messily claims Yata’s mouth again, his fingers wrapping itself around Yata’s length.

He tilts his head and takes Yata’s bottom lip by his teeth, biting and licking it. One of Yata’s hands move to cup his head, using it to pull himself closer. He slides his tongue against Fushimi’s, messily flicking over the other boy’s palate. It’s a clash of teeth, tongue, even some blood and bruised lips after that, the both of them trying to dominate each other.

Fushimi pumps his cock with an agonizingly slow pace, smearing the precum all over, nice and slowly. The vibrations of Yata’s moans sends shivers down his spine. His own erection still within its confines and grinding on Yata’s thigh. The brunnette mumbles something under his breath.

“Speak louder, Mi-sa-ki,” Fushimi teases, enjoying the power he had over his best friend. He was fine being the antagonist if it meant he needn’t hold himself back anymore. Oh, he definitely exploited this little perk over the past few months.

Yata growls and narrows his eyes. “Damn you, I said faster!” He says, leaning in and biting the sensitive skin over Fushimi’s collarbone, startling Fushimi and causing him to grip his groin harder. “Hnngh!”

“Impatient, aren’t you?” Fushimi chuckles, his free hand sliding down to cup Yata’s ass, one of his fingers brushing against the entrance. Yata tightens his grip on Fushimi, groaning against his neck. “Fucking hurry up, damnit. Mikoto-san’s giving me another assign— _Ahhh_!!!” He is cut off my three raw fingers forcefully penetrating him. 

To be fair, Yata really shouldn’t have mentioned Mikoto – not when he was with Fushimi and in the middle of doing _this_ no less.

Yata’s moans echo around the enclosed space, his breathing getting heavier. Fushimi shifts Yata’s weight so he’s leaning on the wall.

“You asked for this,” Fushimi hisses, his words laced with malice and maybe a little bit of hurt. He seals Yata’s lips with his own, muffling his partner’s retort.

His deft fingers opened Yata up quickly, moving on instinct, experience, and routine more than anything. Provoked by the thought of Mikoto in Yata’s mind while he was with _him_ , Fushimi bluntly avoids Yata’s good spot in spite, frustrating the other boy enough to be holding back tears.

The hand pumping Yata’s cock hastens its pace, but it’s not enough to relieve Yata of the knot building up inside him.

He forces his head to turn, freeing his mouth from Fushimi. The other boy only moves to start kissing the skin around his ear. “Saru...” he whispers, pushing away Fushimi’s head.

Fushimi turns to look at Yata. His brows are scrunched up together, his eyes brimming with the tears he refuses to let fall, and his bruised red lips are set into an adorable pout that only enticed Fushimi to kissing him all the more. He chuckles and concedes to the silent pleas, “Alright, alright.”

With that, Yata’s lithe fingers make swift haste of removing Fushimi’s belt, popping the button and unzipping his pants. Fushimi takes his chin and lifts it up so their eyes meet just before the brunette could pull his slacks down along with his boxers. “Just get it good and wet, alright?” he warns, the threat evident in his voice. 

Yata tsks and pushes Fushimi’s hand away noncommittally, muttering “Alright, alright, I get it!” under his breath. He goes down, taking Fushimi’s pants and boxers along with him. He lets his tongue out to meet the base of Fushimi’s cock, his tongue brushing against his balls.

“What are you doing?! I said just— _Hnngh_!” Fushimi’s hands fly to grasp Yata’s head, but his attempt to pull the shorter boy off is forgotten when Yata lazily drags his tongue across his length.

“Good and wet, right?” Yata finishes, smirking up at a scowling Fushimi. He flicks his tongue over the slit on the head before Fushimi could bark out a proper response. He’s silenced even further when Yata takes all of him into his mouth, his tongue ravishing him all over, coating him until he’s slick and wet. 

He resists the urge to thrust himself further down Yata’s throat, resenting how smug the brunette looked last time. It worked well enough until Yata starting sucking, coupled with the image of his Misaki bent over, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and flush cheeks streaked with some pre-cum and his cock in his mouth.

For his part, Yata reveled in Fushimi’s loss of control. He _loved_ knowing that while he lacked a gag-reflex, his best friend wasn’t so fortunate. He’d never let an opportunity pass to gloat. _Aren’t you glad I don’t have a gag-reflex_? his eyes say.

When Yata starts humming, driving him further out of his mind with the pleasure of vibrations running through him, he quickly pulls Yata’s head away from, exhaling a deep breath in the process. _Whew, that was close._

Splayed out on the floor, Yata smirks up at him, even as Fushimi looks down on him, _You’ll be sorry for that_ , written all over his face.

Fushimi takes Yata’s arm, roughly pulls him up, and pushes him face first to the wall. He pins both Yata’s hands above his head. “You’d never survive in SCEPTER 4 with that kind of impatience, not under the Blue king,” he hisses.

He rubs his cock to the crevasse of Yata’s ass, his fists pumping Yata’s own length with the same pace. “Beg for it,” he says when Yata leans into him. 

“Fuck you!” 

Fushimi tsks and releases his hold on Yata’s hand to tease a nipple under his shirt instead. His other hand’s index finger toying with the head of Yata’s cock. “Hmmm...? I didn’t quite catch that,” he teases, positioning himself in Yata’s entrance.

Yata whimpers. “P-Please...” he mutters, managing to swallow his pride, if only to get it over with.

Fushimi pushes it in and Yata archs from the pleasure of being filled. He groans because Fushimi is unforgiving, and the sheer penetration was rough and forceful.

“N-Now see...” Fushimi starts, his voice cracking because _fuck the warmth and tightness of it all is almost overwhelming and all he wants to do is fuck Yata until he can’t stand – won’t_ want _to stand_ , or even leave his side for that matter. “It would be _very_ unfortunate if I didn’t _wait_ , wouldn’t it?”

“It’s about fucking self-control, dumbass,” Yata wants to say, but Fushimi pulls out and thrusts back in before he could get the third syllable out and lust takes over. His struggled groans turned into pleasure-filled moans and Fushimi stops holding back.

His thrusts were slow and teasing as he commemorates, embeds every one of Yata’s reactions – a squirm from this, a moan from that – to his mind, adding to his already long – but far from _enough_ – compilation of memories with Yata. This doesn’t last long, however, because thrusting into Yata’s good spot makes Yata tighten against him, pulling him deeper with each thrust, and soon, Fushimi’s breathing turns to short pants and his pace quickens, wanting more, _more_ – never getting enough of this intoxication.

“ _Mine, mine, mine, mine_...” He whispers this chant against Yata’s head, his words muffled by the beanie . But even with their pants, their grunts, moans, and the distinctive _shlick_ with each of Fushimi’s pumps and thrusts echoing all around the back alley, Yata could hear him, and that, more than anything, drove Yata to his release. 

Fushimi feels Yata shake and tighten even more and quickly moves one of his hands to cover Yata’s mouth, muffling the loud moan that would surely alert someone as Yata comes.

Fushimi places three fingers into his mouth and Yata laps at them greedily. A few more thrusts and he, too, finds his release.

 

“Fuck you, I told you not to come inside me,” Yata growls as they near the exit of the alley. “It’s fucking uncomfortable.” 

Fushimi fixes his collar and was about to reply when a pissed off Kamamoto greets them at the entrance. “Took you guys long enough! Goddamn monkey, couldn’t you have hurried up a little?!” Yata’s second in command berrates, impatience evident on the quick taps his foot made. 

All the blood goes to Yata’s face as he splutters, “W-W- _Wha_ —?!” and a few more incoherent things that none of them – Fushimi, Kamamoto, the rest of Yata’s team behind Kamamoto, and even Yata himself (when he recalls this later on after he’d calmed down) – could translate to human language. 

By god, couldn’t his team leave him a bit of his dignity?! It’s bad enough _everyone_ openly knows he associates with a traitor; they didn’t have to bluntly show their knowledge of his _relationship_  (whatever that may be) with Fushimi too! _Fuuuuuccckkk_ it if they tell on him to Mikoto (not that his king didn’t already know, but at least he pretended to be oblivious to it).

Fushimi raises an uninterested eyebrow and rolls his eyes at Kamamoto, muttering something about “Impatient group...” under his breath. He turns to leave, but not without turning to Yata, in a much happier and lighter mood than when he addressed Kamamoto, and giving him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, smiling innocently when Yata turns to him – turning an even darker shade of red and spluttering even more incoherent words. “See you later, Mi-sa- _ki_ ~” he sing songs.

Fuck it if Yata’s heart didn’t just do a double back flip and pirouette then.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Proofread version on Fanfiction thanks to [BlackMaya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmaya/).
> 
> First published [here](http://projectkkink.livejournal.com/591.html?thread=8015#t8015) on November 11, 2012.


End file.
